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the eye. There was immediate consternation. In dismay Augusta hurried to her husband, and George stood staring, not knowing what to do. But in a short while Frederick was telling them that it was all right. ‘Just the shock of the moment,’ he said.
    However, he did not want to continue with the game, and went to his apartments to lie down for a while.
    Augusta accompanied him, and Lord Bute took Frederick’s place on the tennis court.
    *
    That blow from a tennis ball seemed to affect Frederick adversely. In the first place he developed an abscess and he was so low in health that he had a bad attack of pleurisy. From this he recovered and was well enough to go to the House of Lords. It was a cold day and hot inside the chamber; when he returned to Carlton House he changed into lighter garments and lay down to rest on a couch in a room which opened on to the gardens. As a result he caught a fresh cold, and this undermined his health still further. The abscess flared up again and he declared himself to be in great pain.
    He was taken to Leicester House and there Augusta called in the doctors. The Prince was suffering from the abscess, they said; and he had a touch of pleurisy; they expected he would recover shortly.
    Frederick seemed contented to have Augusta beside him, but he whispered to her that he was uneasy about George.
    ‘George!’ cried Augusta. ‘He is well.’
    ‘He is young,’ replied Frederick, ‘and my father is an old man.’
    Augusta cried out: ‘Do not speak so. It will be many years before George comes to the throne.’
    But Frederick was obsessed by a premonition that it would not be long.
    He said: ‘I have a paper for George. It is in my desk. I wish you to give it to him if I should be unable to do so myself.’
    ‘But of course you will give it to him.’
    But Frederick shook his head. ‘You have been a good wife to me,’ he said. ‘Bute will advise you.’
    He saw the tender smile touch her lips and he was pleased. He had not been faithful to her. Let her find some consolation if she could. It had occurred to him lately that there was a great deal in Augusta which neither he nor others appreciated. Perhaps Bute did. She was not the gullible fool many believed her to be.
    ‘The paper for George is in my desk,’ he said, and even as he spoke a spasm of pain crossed his face.
    ‘Augusta,’ he said, ‘send for Desnoyer… I’d like him toplay a little for me. He has a way with a violin which pleases me.’
    Augusta sent for the children’s music master and when the man came Frederick smiled at him and bade him play.
    In the Prince’s bedchamber the candles guttered; the Prince lay back on his pillows, his face drawn and yellow; Augusta watched, telling herself he would soon recover. It is a good sign that he asked for the music. In the shadows the doctors waited: Wilmot, Taylor and Leigh, with Hawkins the surgeon – some of the best medical men in the country.
    He’ll soon be well, thought Augusta, soon taking ‘little walks in the alleys’ with Lady Middlesex while she herself enjoyed one of those stimulating and most delightful sessions with Lord Bute.
    The Prince began to cough; the violin stopped; the doctors were at the bedside.
    Frederick put his hands on his heart and said: ‘I feel death close.’
    Augusta rose in her chair and snatched up a candle.
    ‘My God,’ cried Wilmot, ‘the Prince is going.’
    As Augusta held the candle high and looked at her husband, she saw the glazed look in his eyes as he sank back on the pillows.
    He lay still; she stood staring aghast, and it was some time before the numbing realization came to her that she was a widow.
    *
    There was gloom in Leicester House. Everyone was shocked. Frederick was only forty-four years of age. His father was still alive and looked as if he were good for a few more years. And Frederick was dead. His eldest son was but a boy – thirteen years old. Who would have believed this possible, seeing Frederick on the